A Song Of
by livingdeadkat
Summary: A AU fic set in modern times. It is a normal night for high school student Sansa Stark. But that all changes after being caught home alone. (Chapters are named after songs!)
1. Hello Beautiful

It was late when Sansa neared her home: later than it should have been. If her parents were at home, she'd most likely be in trouble. She smiled either way, thinking back on what fun she had earlier, letting out a breath that was visible in the chilly winter air.

She had gone to choir practice right after school had let out, and then to ballet class after that. Jeyne accompanied her to both, as they took most of the same classes. They laughed and gossiped after all their practice was done, over a cup of yogurt at the local self-serve place. The fun only stopped when Jeyne looked at her phone, gasped, and rushed out saying her parents would kill her if she didn't get home. Sansa laughed nervously and said it'd be the same for her.

Now she was walking down the sidewalk, her ballet gear in the tote bag she had slung over her shoulder. She was somewhat cold, wishing she had brought a jacket. The oversized blue sweater sher wore would have to do, and it was only a couple of more blocks to her home.

She passed several small businesses scattered among the houses in her neighborhood. Nothing exciting. Just the usual quiet night in the small city of Winterfell. Sighing, she took out her iPod and put her earbuds in. Lady Gaga songs drowned out the sound of slowly passing cars as she walked down the sidewalk in her flats.

Finally, she arrived at her home. It looked a bit like many other houses: a Colonial, painted gray, with black shutters. Two brick chimneys rose up from the black-shingled roof. So dull. So boring. With another sigh, Sansa walked up the stairs to front door, reaching up to open it up. Locked. It looked to be pretty dark inside. Odd.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her keys, moving to unlock and open the door before shutting it behind her as she stepped inside. She flipped the lights on to the foyer and looked around. It was so quiet in there. Usually she'd hear chatter, her youngest brother running about, or Arya playing her music too loud in her room. But there was nothing.

The young woman walked into the kitchen, having to turn the lights on in there, as well. She walked over to the refrigerator, seeing a stick note stuck against the chrome surface: "Took Rickon and Bran to the movies. Be back later" - Mom. So that's where they were. Shrugging her shoulders, she opened up the fridge and took out a can of soda, then headed upstairs.

As soon as she reached the top floor, she felt a chill. Oh great. She knew just where it came from. She pushed the door open to Arya's lit up room. She was right. The window was open, letting cold air in. She had snuck out again. Smirking, Sansa thought about how much trouble her bratty little sister would be in when her parents found out. She shut the window, then headed next door to her own room.

Opening the door, she walked inside, throwing her tote bag down to the side as she closed the door with her foot. Sansa set the can of soda on her nightstand then reached up to undo her hair from the bun she had put it up in for ballet class. It fell down to the middle of her back in strands of wavy red.

She grabbed up a brush and began to work it through her long hair, glancing around her room idly. She stopped for a moment and turned back to a bare spot on her wall. That's where a poster was when she left for class. Her One Direction poster. Did her snotty sister tear it down?

With a frustrated growl, she threw her brush down onto the bed and approached the wall, running her hand against the wall, some traces of sticky tack left behind. Even more annoyed by her sister not even taking the time to do it cleanly, she began to pick the tack off the wall with her fingernails. That's when she suddenly heard her sliding closet doors creak as they opened. She turned to look, expecting to see Arya diving out at her. But no. It wasn't her.

A large man, all in black was standing there, his broad chest rising and falling slowly as he stared at her with cold gray eyes. Letting out a gasp, Sansa turned and tried to run for the door, but his large hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back against his sturdy form.

"Scream and you won't like the consequences," The masked man said in a low, growling tone as he pushed her forward against her bed. Oh no. What was he going to do?

She began to shake. He stepped closer to her, so she rolled off to the side and threw herself at her window, screaming as she tried to unlock and open it, "Help me! Someone help!" But she'd never get that window open. The man's arm looped around her waist this time and pulled her back, her long, slender legs kicking as her hands grabbed and scratched at his arms.

"I told you," he snarled as he smacked a cloth over her mouth. She could smell something sweet, and began to feel lightheaded. She kept kicking while she could, her flats flying off her feet and hitting the far wall.

But then she suddenly couldn't kick anymore. She went limp, though her mouth kept moving, trying to ask him to stop. He didn't hear her. And then everything went black.

When she next woke up, she decided she'd rather be asleep. Her head felt like it was going to explode, and the faint light in the unfamiliar room made it even worse. Her eyes squinting, she rose up into a sitting position, seeing she was in a bed. Not her bed.

Glancing around, she saw this wasn't her house at all. It looked like a basement, the entire room made up of cement. The small windows at the top of the far wall was partially covered by black cloth, but some sunlight still got in. It was morning.

Sansa soon got out of the simple, metal-framed bed and began to walk across the cold floor in her bare feet. She looked around for a door or some stairs, but none were in this room. She'd just have to find the other rooms, then. She stepped toward the doorless entry, but then froze up when she heard voices coming from a room nearby.

Steeling herself, she stepped out into a hallway, turning to see some stairs at the end. She picked up speed, moving toward those stairs. But someone stepped out from another door and she ran right into him. A large man. Another large man, though. She could tell it wasn't the same one from the night before.

She gulped down her fear and raised her gaze to the man's face. The darker-skinned man arched a brow at her and began speaking in a language she didn't recognize, a smirk on his face. He stepped toward her as she stepped back, and she oddly heard a jingling sound. She looked toward his long, tied back hair and saw bells strung through the hair tie. Usually, she'd comment on such odd fashion, but this was _not _the time.

Spinning around to get away from him, she ran right into someone else. But this person's figure was smaller, and more slender. She didn't have to look up this time, for the woman was almost the same height she was. The woman was lean, with an athletic build. She had a sharp nose, and dark hair cropped short to frame her face. This wasn't the person who took her either.

Staring at the woman in shock, she felt large hands clap her on the shoulders. She jumped in surprise the woman beckoning both her and the large foreign man forward. The man pushed her forward, as gently as he could manage, and they took a turn, and then another turn into a larger room.

This one had more to it than hers did. Three beds in different corners of the space, a couch on a rug in the middle, along with somewhat large TV on a stand before it. Sitting there was a third person, a large man. He flipped through the channels, obviously not finding anything that he'd want to watch. With his free hand, he brought the mouth of a beer bottle to his lips, taking a long gulp.

"Hey. She's awake," the woman said, the man on the couch turning the television off and carelessly toss the empty glass bottle to the floor. He rose to his full height, turning to walk toward the trio. Sansa's breath caught in her throat when she got a full view of his face.

One side was badly scarred. They looked like burns. And he was so badly burnt, that she could even see a glimpse of his jawbone. When she could finally peel her eyes away from his scars, she saw the color of his eyes. It was him. He was the one who took her.

Gulping again, she backed into the man that pushed her there, thinking he was less terrifying. The growly man didn't seem to like this, showing his clenched teeth at her as he stepped forward, black boots tapping against the floor beneath. Black boots, black jeans, black shirt. All black, like his hair.

She shrunk back even more, but the darker-skinned man held her still, the woman stepping to the side. Her kidnapper actually grinned at this, darkly, slowly taking step after step.

When he finally reached her, he eyed her up and down, then reached to grab her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him with her soft blue eyes. He leaned down a bit to be more on her level and still grinned, letting the silence hang in the air before simply saying:

"Good morning."


	2. Crawling in the Dark

Sandor stared down at the girl, feinting slight pleasure in the discomfort and fear showing on her pretty face. He had seen her face before from a distance, and in pictures, but it didn't really do justice to seeing it up close. But how was it different from any other pretty face he had come across? He was being a fucking idiot.

After several long moments, he pulled his hand from her chin, his eyes following as she stumbled off to the side, away from Drogo and Asha, his partners in crime. He turned to the two and nodded, Asha rolling her shoulders and walking back out of the room. Drogo, though, turned to stare after the young woman with that smarmy smirk on his face.

With a sigh, Sandor jerked his thumb toward the door. Drogo shrugged, though disappointment showed on his face, and moved over to the door, grabbing his brown leather jacket from beside it before heading out the back door, outside. It was suddenly very quiet in the room. Uncomfortable. But Sandor never let such things show on his face.

Sansa Stark, however, was a different story.

She stood over in the corner, her hands clutched before her chest. She was visibly shaking, as if cold, her eyes wide as they glanced around, doing their best not to stay on the imposing man a few feet away. A dark grin formed on his lips, one that came without being willed to appear. It was a reflex by now.

He approached her again slowly, taking small step after small step until he was but a foot from her. She flinched a bit, her eyes fixed on the hard, cold floor beneath them. It was beginning to annoy him. It seemed the girl was more scared of his face than anything, like he was some kind of monster. Usually, it was something he took pride in. Why was it so different now?

"Look at me," he said in a firm, but somewhat low tone. She moved her eyes, but only to the side, still wouldn't turn to him. Fuck this.

"LOOK AT ME!" he roared, slamming his fist into the wall, though it was nowhere near her. The girl whimpered, fidgeting around a bit before slowly lifting her eyes to his ruined face, forcing herself to keep them there even though it was obviously unpleasant for her.

He leaned forward, causing her to shrink back a bit. She didn't have much room to do so, soon finding herself pressed back into the corner. Sandor placed a hand on wall, close to the side of her head, staring her right in the eye as he spoke. "Don't like my face, huh? Well, you better get used to it, _sweetheart,_ or we're going to have some problems here. We're going to be spending a lot of time together in this small space. Don't be stupid, and do as you're told. Do you fucking understand me?"

Gulping, Sansa nodded to him, but couldn't get any words out. That was good enough. It'd have to be. The girl was still scared out of her wits. Thinking about it, he could hardly blame her.

Eyeing her up and down, he stalked back over to the couch and plopped down in it. He grabbed another beer. Popping the cap off the bottle, he yelled over his shoulder at Asha to summon her back to the room.

A few moments later, the woman showed up with a garbage bag full of... something. She peered over at Sansa and motioned her over. "I have some extra clothes for you to wear. Sure it won't be as stylish as the stuff you're used to wearing, but it'll have to do."

The Stark girl approached the older woman, and together they headed back into her open, doorless room. Asha had to hold a sheet up for Sansa to change behind. She pulled on a grey Joan Jett t-shirt and some slightly too large skinny jeans. Glancing down, she remembered she had kicked her shoes off in an attempt to get away from her kidnapper. Asha noticed as well and shrugged.

"I can get your size and pick up a pair later." With that, Asha looked the girl over, shrugged once more, and headed right back to the room she had been in before, leaving her alone just as Sandor was in the next room.

Soon enough, after glancing around her plain concrete room, Sansa realized there was nothing to do. She heard the sound of a TV coming from the next room and soon began to creep back toward it.

Once inside, she saw the fearsome man was watching a boxing match. It looked old, too, though she didn't know anything about the bloody sport at all.

She continued watching for a bit, gasping maybe a bit too loudly when one of the boxers bit into his opponent's ear. How horrible, she thought, as she heard the scarred man chuckle under his breath at the violent, but seemingly amusing, act.

He took the time to stop the DVD, but left the TV on, the blue screen glaring. He turned to stare at her with an indescernible expression on her face, and she stared back with pale blue eyes.

Parting her lips to say something, she was suddenly interrupted by a large hand landing on her shoulder. A frightened squeak escaped her mouth instead, right before she turned to see the man with bell in his hair behind her.

"Drogo have sweet things, sweet thing, " he said in barely understandable English. Sansa lowered her eyes to see he had a box of doughnuts. He opened it up for her and handed a napkin over. She used it to grab up one of the pastries, seeing it her her favorite filling inside: lemon.

She had her food, and now it was time to leave the awkward situation, so she did. She scurried back to her room without a word, leaving Drogo to carry the box over to Sandor, who reached out a hand to grab up a random doughnut.

Once inside, she gobbled up the food quickly, not caring about manners now that no one was watching her. She peered over at the bag of clothes as she licked at her slightly sticky fingers, deciding she should probably fold them. But first she tore the bag that held them, folding it and placing it beside her bed. She'd use it, putting the folded clothes on it so they wouldn't be on the dirty floor.

_I shouldn't have finished that up so quickly_, she reflected. _Now I have nothing left to do. _With a sigh, she fell back over onto her bed and spent quite a long while staring up at the ceiling, wondering why she was here, as she was too scared to ask. What cause did they have to kidnap her? If it had just been one man, it'd most likely have to do with him having some creepy intentions. But why three people?

She soon let her eyes close, and dozed off, the boredom lulling her to sleep.

Hours passed before Sansa opened her eyes again. Sansa felt like a bear who had just woken up from its hibernation. She rubbed at her eyes, sitting up in her bed.

It took a few minutes for her to fully awaken. She picked up sounds coming from the main room, and also caught the smell of food. Her stomach growled.

She pushed herself up off the bed and padded toward the the larger room, seeing they had set a table up a couple of feet from the couch, boxes of Chinese take out set up on top, as well as styroafoam cups with straws sticking out.

The girl took careful steps toward the slightly tilted table, just to nearly be ran over by hurrying Drogo. He slammed himself down into the chair, causing it to creak. He soon began tearing open boxes to unceremoniously shovel food onto his plate. Noticing Sansa gaping at him, he blinked and said with a full mouth, "What? Am hungry."

She gulped, moving even more carefully toward the table and took a seat on the opposite side from the foreign man, who smiled deviously before swallowing.

Sansa continued sitting there, waiting for the other two and not touching the food. It was rude to eat before they arrived, though she didn't have it in her to tell Drogo this. Not bravery or heartlessness, as he seemed to be enjoying himself.

After what seemed like forever, the other two arrived, one after another. They sat down gently in their chairs, at least compared to Drogo. Asha served herself without looking up, but Sandor glanced at Sansa, urging her (with a scowl) to get her food before he claimed his own portion.

They ate in silence- awkward silence, Sansa taking small, polite bites. Sandor seemed to stare at her a lot, and amused expression on his face.

Drogo looked up, noticing this, and elbowed Sandor in the side a bit too hard, causing the man to glare. "She," he began, pointing at Sansa, "eat like bird."

Staring at Sansa, the darkly-clothed man nodded. "She sings like one, too. Followed her to her classes a few times. Bet you didn't know that, did you, Birdy?" He smirked at her. It didn't make the realization he had been following her any less dismaying. How long had he been doing this?

After finishing up, Sandor pushed his mostly empty paper plate away, staring the Stark girl in the eyes. "Meeting time, Birdy," He began. "Do you have any idea why you're here?"

Sansa shook her head, glancing at the other two before turning back to Sandor.

"Well, we, and by that I mean me, Asha, and Drogo, have been paid handsomely to take you."

She bit her lip. "And how long will I be here, exactly? And who are _you_?"

He perked a brow at that, smirking again. "Don't wanna refer to me as Scarface then? Fine. My name is Sandor. As for how long you'll be here..." He looked at his partners before continuing, "You'll be here until your parents raise the ransom money. Two million, to be exact."

The young woman gaped at him. "W-what? My parents aren't really rich. How will they raise all of that money?"

Sandor lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Not my problem. They either will, or you'll be shit out of luck."

She went pale, staring right back at him for a while before murmuring something about bed and rising to hurry back off to her room.

Asha sighed at him and his lack of tact before taking her thing away from the table, Drogo giving him a sarcastic thumbs-up before leaving as well. It was suddenly quiet.

The large, scarred man sat there, feeling slightly guilty for some mysterious reason. He finally rose up to clean and put the table away before trudging to his cot and sprawling out on it.

Next to no sleep came for him that night, only ceiling-staring and damned ceaseless thinking. Little did he know that the Birdy he had caught was with him in this.


	3. (Can't Get)My Head Around You

It was loud in the "house" for some reason when Sansa opened her eyes, hands reaching up to rub at them. Her eyes were still blurry when she saw the figure of a shorter, brown-haired man retreat, Drogo storming after him.

"Fucking accountant, fucking-... Get back here, you oaf, " She heard Sandor growl, Drogo relenting and stomping back over to him. They began muttering heatedly amongst themselves.

_What is going on?_ Sansa thought to herself. She suddenly felt like it might just be a good idea to play dead.

A female voice joined the fray: Asha's, of course. Sansa could clearly tell they were speaking of money as she laid her head back down and closed her eyes.

"...only a quarter. Supposed to get a third," She heard Asha say.

"Don't you think I fucking remember that, woman?"

"Should have smashed Littlefinger's head in, like grape."

_Littlefinger? What kind of name is that? Was he the man who was just here?_

The three quieted down again to the point where Sansa could no longer make out what they were saying. They broke off after a while, someone exiting the building. She could tell Asha stayed, as Sansa could hear her speaking to someone on the phone, until she once more entered the room she seemed to spend so much time in.

_Seems like everyone's preoccupied, _Sansa thought as she crept out of her bed and into the makeshift den/dining room. The girl glanced around just to make sure she was alone, then lowered herself down into the old, somewhat ratty couch. The remote was found after she reached her hand down between the couch cushions.

She turned the TV on and began to flip through the channels. She finally landed on MTV, her go-to channel. _Just some reruns of Jersey Shore. Ugh._ But it was somewhat better than just laying in bed. She ended up just staring blankly at the screen, mulling over the morning's events.

An hour or two pased of her mindlessly watching TV. Drogo and Sandor re-entered the building but she didn't even notice.

"Jesus fucking Christ, really?" She heard Sandor say. She gasped in surprise, grabbing the remote and turning the television off before stumbling to her bare feet. She turned, just to run face first into a broad chest. Taking a quick step back, she saw the chest covered in a Metallica t-shirt, then glanced further up to see that scarred face.

"So many channels, and you have to choose that one? I feel like smashing the damn TV now." He waved his hand out at the TV in annoyance.

"...well, if I had anything else to do," Sansa began in a quiet voice. She decided not to go on, her eyes looking off at something that wasn't the large, scary man, even though he could feel his eyes boring into her.

There was silence for a few moments, then irritated grumbling as she saw a box being shoved at her. "Put these on. Tired of watching you walk around in your bare feet. He waved his hand, again, but this time toward the room she had been sleeping in. Bowing her head to him, she scurried off, feeling his eyes follow.

This would have been one of the times she'd shut and lock the door behind her, but there was no door to speak of. She when off to the side of the room instead, opening up the box so she could peer inside. What was in the box surprised her quite a bit.

She lifted the shoes he had brought from the box. They were flats much like the ones she had left behind at home: black velvet with little bows on top. The only way these differed were the straps that would go over her feet, so they wouldn't come (or fly) off. They were also her exact size. Odd. She hadn't told Asha her shoe size yet. She didn't think much more of it, slipping her cold feed into the shoes.

Turning to her bed, she spied another, larger box, but decided to leave it for now. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but on she went, right back to the large room where the other three stood. A couple of moments later, as if on queue, they turned to look at her in unison, then down at her shoed feet. Clearing her throat, she spoke up, "Th-thank you for these. It's very nice of you."

She stared right at Sandor as she spoke. It was getting a bit easier to look at him, though in her mind she knew she should be afraid. He stared right back at her, then grunted.

"But if I may ask," Sansa began, "how did you know what size I wore?"

"I know a lot about you, from watching you. It's my job."

"Oh god, Sandor. That's creepy," Asha added.

"What? You two were heloing. If it means I'm a creeper, then you are fucking creepers, too."

"No. Is just you. Go alone lots of times by self. Is too creepy."

Sandor scowled. "Fuck the both of you," He breathed before moving to plop down onto the couch, leaving Asha and Drogo snickering behind him. Sansa looked from face to face before backing up, then turning to head into her room.

Making it to her bed, she opened up the cardboard box that had been left atop it to look inside. Stacks of books rested there. Romance novels. Mostly the cheesy kind, and also some slightly less cheesy young adult novels. Had Sandor bought these for her as well?

Turning to glance over her shoulder, she found her face dangerously close to someone else's. Drogo's. He had leaned in close behind her and was grinning. "Romance books, eh? Ever done things like in books?" Sansa stared at him dumbly, not quite getting it. As as if he knew what was going on, Sandor shouted, "Leave Birdy alone, you oaf." There was no passion behind it, as if he only half-cared. But Drogo shrugged and did as he was told, winking at Sansa before retreating.

Sansa watched him go, reaching to smooth down her slightly frazzled red hair. She was really wihshing she had as shower, some nice shampoo, and a straight iron, but people suhc as these probably didn't care about the state of her poor hair.

Shrugging, she picked up a book. Twilight. Ugh. Even she didn't read such things. She tossed it aside and reached for another. Never the Knight. Weird name for a romance novel. But the tagline... "But ever ready to love." She giggled to herself, soon opening it up to start reading.

Another hour passed, which the Stark girl spent laying back and reading the somewhat corny romance novel. Only did she think about putting it down when Drogo called out that he had brought lunch back.

Sansa waited for a couple of minutes, finishing the chapter she was on before folding the corner of the page to keep her place and putting the book down.

Whens he got near the table, the smell of fried food hit her. And not just one kind. Chicken. Fries. Corn dogs. Cheese sticks. Dear god, where they wanting her to die this young? As she thought about how unhealthy it all looked, she turned toward Drogo, who was happily scarfing down as much as he could fit into his mouth.

Sandor and Asha entered the room soon after, both of them giving Drogo their own special looks: Asha's of annoyance mixed with some slight amusement, Sandor's of pure annoyance, bordering on anger. He moved over to a cooler beside the couch, pulling out three bottles of beer. Seeing the expectant looks on his partners' faces, he said, "What are you looking at? These are all for me." And with that, he plopped down into his chair, removing the cap off of one bottle to guzzle down the liquid within down quickly. Sansa frowned as she watched him, moving tentatively to pick a corn dog up by the stick and place it on her plate, Sandor and Asha serving themselves soon after.

Drogo leaned over the table, a friendly yet impish smile on his face as he squirted mustard onto her plate, motioning for her to eat. Sansa lifted the corn dog, taking a small bite, the bronze-skinned man staring at her intently, that smile still on his face. Weird. She took another bite. He licked his lips.

Finally, Sandor slammed his fist down on the table. "I swear to god, if you don't wipe that stupid grin off your face and stop staring, I'll gouge your fucking eyes out!"

Drogo's lips twitched up into a snarl, but he did as he was told, returning to his own food. Sansa was utterly confused about what was going on, but said nothing of her confusion, simply finishing her food in peace. When she looked back up, she saw Sandor had already drank his second beer and was opening his third.

Worrying her lip, the young woman decided to speak up, "You shouldn't drink so much. It isn't good for you." Sandor wrinkled his brown, turning to leer at her for a moment. "It might not be good for my health, but it is certainly good for his." He tilted his head in Drogo's direction. "If I didn't drink so much, I would have rung this idiot's neck by now."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Drogo glaring daggers at Sandor, his fists clenched. Sandor must have noticed as well, as he soon turned to glare right back. Drogo muttered something in his own language, nearly throwing his chair over as he pushed it back, just to storm off.

Asha sighed, watching him leave and stood up as well, setting his chair straight after pushing her own in. That just left Sandor and Sansa. All alone.

She began chewing on her lip again, pushing her long, red hair back away from her face as she glanced over at Sandor, almost shyly. He didn't seem to notice, his own gray eyes staring off blankly as he slowly sipped from his last bottle of beer. Sansa cleared her throat, causing him to blink suddenly and glance toward her. "Yeah?"

Sansa swallowed before replying, "Why were you so mad at him? He was only looking at me."

The man chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "It's _how _he was looking at you that bothers me. Don't you see what he's doing?" Sansa shook her head.

"He wants in your pants, girl. He wants in every woman's pants. You just happen to be convenient and close by." He eyed her up and down slowly, drinking the rest of his beer.

Sansa felt a shiver run down her spine, even as blood rushed to her face, coloring her cheeks a rosy red. She still felt his eyes on her, but he soon averted them, pretending not to care. She stammered out a goodbye and ran off to her room, leaving him alone again. He always was. "This must be by punishment for being so damn honest in a world of bull-shitters," He muttered.

He found himself tromping over to his old, faithful couch, falling down into it with a grunt. He could no longer hear any other voices. This used to be when he felt most comfortable, and any semblance of contentment. But not now. What was missing? The large man glanced sideways at the cooler, which still held many a bottle of beer, but then shook his head, his pawlike hand reaching to scratch at his scarred face.

He sat there like that for a while, his head itching from the inside, bothering him. What was wrong? Did Drogo get to him that much? He should be used to the man's stupidity womanizing by now. Another job, another girl he'd end up fucking and then driving away from. He felt himself tense up, his hands becoming fists in his lap. He was making himself angry.

Nope. No more of this. He walked over to his cot and pulled a small bag out from under it, unzipping it to take out his trusty knock-out pills. Hurrying back over to the cooler, he took out another beer, his last beer for the night, and swallowed down both it and a couple of pills. Grumbling, he trudged back over to his rickety bed, peeled his shirt off, and fell down onto it.

_Sleep. Come. Please come. This is fucking stupid._

It eventually did, but not fast enough, thoughts of red hair and stupid girlish smiles running through his fogged up head.


End file.
